


And The Bells Were Ringing Out

by Eriakit



Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas Smut, Eggnog, Felching, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Licking, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Rimming, Scratching, Smut, The Feast of Winter Veil, a barbarian chewing mints instead of sucking on them, i can't find a tag for low-key man-tittyfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriakit/pseuds/Eriakit
Summary: Khadgar and Lothar enjoy themselves greatly during a holiday break.





	And The Bells Were Ringing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gods those fucking tags. I didn't really think it was that bad until I made the tags. MERRY CHRISTMAS, YOU FILTHY SINNERS.

 

It’s warm in the room, that special sort of warm-and-cold of the expansive fireplace and the roaring, crackling fire it holds pushing back the frigid and damp of a Stormwind winter that seeps in through every crack and gap of the castle walls. It makes the air feels close and comforting, like being swaddled without being touched. Every sound within the room is amplified a thousand fold, attention-grabbing, while all noise outside of it is muffled, unimportant.

Khadgar stretches out his limbs, groaning at the exhausted shake of them. It makes the body-warmed silk of the sheets skip-cling-drag along his bare, oversensitive skin and he groans, hips twitching. The sheets are half-damp, tacky from sweat, and he stretches a little again just to feel the warm, uneven slide of them once more. His muscles shudder, a gentle sort of ache singing through him, and he moans.

His moan is echoed from the other side of the room and he lets his head turn, slowly, eyes lidded. Lothar’s shoulders are pressed to the bedroom door, one hand balancing a tray laden with the spoils of his kitchen raid, the other half-under his loose tunic and splayed over his groin, palm and fingers moving lazily along the bulge in his hastily-pulled-on trousers. Khadgar feels himself smile before he really thinks of doing it, then thinks out exactly how he’s going to move before he twists his hands into the sheets above his head and arches his body, rolling up like a wave. His legs spread and his heels dig into the bed and he knows Lothar can see  _ everything _ as the sneaking cold at the edges of the air ghosts over where he’s wet and stretched and empty-for-now and dripping sticky-wet. Lothar’s head knocks back against wood as he hisses at the show, and he nearly loses the balance of the tray as he uses the impact to shove off from the door.

Khadgar makes a pleased half-sound and licks his lips, tasting the eggnog he’d finished off, a sensory reminder of why Lothar left in the first place. Why he had to be  _ alone _ for any time at all. He falls back against the bed in time with the tray landing on the side table and Lothar crunching something between his teeth, and then Lothar is there, Lothar is  _ everywhere, _ spread over and long him like a blanket, slick tongue sliding into his mouth and rough hands rasping over his skin and loose hairs escaping from their braid to tickle both their faces.

The taste of eggnog from Khadgar’s mouth mingles with candy-sweet mint from Lothar’s for a moment before the mint overwhelms it, and Khadgar along with it as he’s pressed into the bed. He can’t do - doesn’t  _ want _ to do - anything but lay back and enjoy it as Lothar moves over him, reacquainting himself with Khadgar’s body as if he’d been gone days, rather than minutes. Khadgar doesn’t even press up into the hands squeezing and rubbing over him or the mouth that's left his to travel on to his neck. He just lies there, letting the waves of lazy pleasure wash over him as Lothar moves lower.

The fabric of Lothar’s shirt is too-rough and not-skin and drags sudden and raspy over the insides of Khadgar’s thighs as Lothar slides down and between them to press whiskery kisses to his belly. Khadgar huffs, irritated, and before Lothar can register he’s moved Khadgar’s heels are kicking into his shoulders and he’s forcibly shoved back onto his knees.

Lothar looks down at Khadgar with what Khadgar is sure is the most intimidating glower he can manage at the moment - it makes Khadgar snicker, ruined by frizzing hair making a halo in the light of the fire behind him and the eggnog-and-kisses fueled pink in his face.

Lothar sighs at him and opens his mouth - to ask  _ what _ or  _ why  _ or some other thing that just seems so utterly  _ stupid _ at this moment, Khadgar’s certain - and Khadgar slides his legs from Lothar’s shoulders to his hips and uses the loose hold as a brace to pull himself up, quick-as-a-blink, and press his mouth to Lothar’s again.

It’s messy and not even a  _ kiss _ so much as a bruised mouth waiting to happen but it keeps Lothar’s words in his mouth, which seems awfully important in their room, in this moment, where it’s silent except for the fire’s crack and sizzle and their breaths and the sounds their bodies make as they move, soft rustles and whispers and rasps. But it’s so  _ terribly _ important, just now, that they’re both  _ quiet _ , that there are no  _ words. _

Khadgar has the presence of mind to appreciate the strength of the eggnog he’d stolen the last of before he refocuses on the task at hand and pulls back from a bemused Lothar to tug at the offending shirt. It was a perfectly nice shirt, most days, but tonight if Lothar didn’t help him remove it he’d turn it to ash to dance in the warm-close air of their room.

Lothar cottons on quickly and makes disgruntled not-words above Khadgar’s head as he wrestles himself free of the shirt and Khadgar merrily moves on to kissing along his chest, bristly little hairs tickling his mouth and making him snicker for no particular reason at all.

A warm, broad hand cups the back of his neck and Khadgar stops to look up, everything fuzzy-warm-happy and only getting more so as he tilts his head back and sees Lothar’s face. He looks so  _ fond _ , and tipsier than Khadgar is, and caught somewhere between sex-hungry and half-asleep for the heartbeat before Khadgar wraps his arms around Lothar’s neck and pulls himself up to sit properly in his lap.

Lothar moves to accommodate him, as usual.

He’s just so  _ warm _ , is what Khadgar’s head is stuck on. Inside and out. The fire could go out and the wet, miserable cold outside could flood in and he’s certain he’d still be plenty warm as long as Lothar was here, arms around his waist, tolerating Khadgar’s legs squeezing too-tight into his sides and hands tugging unthinkingly at his braid with the grace of one too drunk, and love-drunk, to give a shit.

Khadgar  _ loves _ this man.

He’s just about ready to break his own silent rule to tell him so, for the millionth time since the first time, when Lothar stops looking at him to grab a peppermint off the side table, pops it into his mouth, and crunches it between his teeth like a barbarian mere inches from Khadgar’s face.

Khadgar’s long-suffering sigh is ignored as Lothar finishes chewing his treat and grabs one of the mugs of eggnog. Khadgar’s teeth sinking into the side of Lothar’s neck are not, which he counts as a victory even as Lothar splutters and little trails of eggnog drip between their chests. It’s Khadgar shoved backward this time, with a dark-eyed Lothar following him down almost before the mug makes contact with the side table.

Khadgar wriggles with his victory and grins as Lothar tries to kiss him and shove his trousers off at the same time. Khadgar helps, keeping Lothar’s head steady with fingers threaded into his hair as he twists and shoves one-handedly at the offending clothing. Khadgar gets almost no time to appreciate the revealed skin against his before Lothar is moving down his body again, leaving lingering warmth on Khadgar’s lips and crunched-up peppermint on his tongue.

Lothar’s tongue is hot and slick and shocking when it darts out over Khadgar’s nipple, and Khadgar bucks up and is promptly held down as Lothar rumbles and licks him again, following the smeared lines of spilled eggnog. He moves lower, and lower, and Khadgar whines high-pitched and needy as his chin bumps the head of Khadgar’s cock - and then he moves  _ up _ again, following another trail, and Khadgar has to cover his face with his hands to muffle his shriek.

He loses track of seconds and minutes as Lothar moves over him, gets lost in Lothar’s mouth on his skin and the warmth and the silk under him again. He doesn’t notice the moment that Lothar switches from licking him clean to sucking marks along his ribs, just finds himself enjoying the sting and throb before Lothar moves to his other side to even him out. Lothar lays flat on his belly between Khadgar’s thighs as he moves on to another spot, nipping and suckling at the soft curve of Khadgar’s belly like it’s the finishing touch on the whole design.

Khadgar thrusts weakly up against Lothar’s chest, legs pinned down by arms intent on keeping him still so Lothar can place his marks  _ just so. _ But it’s enough, it’s  _ good, _ and Khadgar falls into a rhythm of gentle rocking and soft sighs, the hair on Lothar’s chest rasping against him, the heat just right, his fingers encouragingly wound into Lothar’s hair, his eyes shut tight so he can  _ feel. _

And then Lothar, seemingly satisfied, slides down further, and Khadgar pants heavily at the slow drag against his cock until all-at-once there’s nothing against him but air again - and then the hands that had been pinning his legs  _ down _ are lifting his legs  _ up _ , over Lothar’s shoulders.

He expects to be bent in half, thrusted into,  _ finally _ , again. Instead he’s spread open, exposed, and the shiver that goes through the middle of him is blazing hot as he opens his eyes to watch Lothar watching him. Khadgar’s hole twitches and Lothar licks his lips and that’s all the warning Khadgar gets before Lothar’s tongue is on him again, sliding against him and then into him and it’s so easy to just lay back and take it. It’s so easy to be  _ taken, _ open and slick and raw from the last time, and the time before. And  _ oh,  _ he must be full, he must taste of Lothar’s cum more than anything - and Lothar must like it, because the hands on his thighs are gripping tight, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh hard enough he can already feel the bruises he’ll have come morning, and the air is full of Lothar’s pleased, rumbly noises and wet, filthy sounds that make Khadgar’s ear  _ burn _ even as he arches best he can for more.

He’s shaking, trembling with every wet-slick thrust into him, cock leaking onto his belly, before Lothar finally can’t seem to take waiting anymore and all-a-sudden arms are around Khadgar’s waist again. He’s barely able to think enough to hold on properly as Lothar sits up, pulling him into his lap, but the hot press of Lothar’s cock against his hole and the fingers digging harshly into either side of his ass, spreading him wide, rouse him somewhat. He holds on with one arm around Lothar’s neck and reaches back, clumsy and eager as Lothar mouths at his throat encouragingly, and then it’s one-two-three-easy to press the head of Lothar’s cock against his hole and then let himself relax.

It feels amazing, being filled up again for the - he’s lost count, honestly, of how many rounds they’ve gone since Lothar came back into their room with a grin and a promise of three days without responsibilities and a tray of drinks and treats. At this moment, Khadgar never wants to be empty again - he wants, drunkenly, to just live like this, forever, thinks it might be nice to just be filled and fucked and held close as Lothar groans in his ear and steadies his grip on Khadgar’s ass. And then they’re moving - Lothar is moving them, holding Khadgar up enough he can thrust into him, letting Khadgar slam down into his lap - and Khadgar can’t think at  _ all _ beyond the not-quite-rhythm he’s setting.

Lothar, he’s sure, could go on forever like this - but Khadgar wants the press of him, the weight on top of him, so suddenly and so keenly he feels the prick of tears at his eyes. So he leans back when he’s next fully seated, and Lothar follows his lead and let’s them topple over, takes the brunt of the fall by bracing his arms as if he has to protect Khadgar from the impact on a plush bed. It’s that as much as the pleasure of the next thrust that wrings a half-sob out of Khadgar’s throat, and then he’s being kissed again, gentled, even as a Lothar holds him tighter and fucks into him harder.

Khadgar feels crushed in the best possible way, barely able to catch a breath for the pressure and the heat as he digs his heels into the curve of Lothar’s ass and scrabbles at Lothar’s back and shoulders, nails leaving pink trails as he’s pounded into harder and harder. He’s filled and covered, spread wide and pressed down, he’s wrapped around Lothar in every way possible and it’s so good it  _ hurts _ . All he can hear is the wet noises of their bodies and the noisy moans and whines they’re both making, all he can smell is salt and sweat and  _ them, _ cut through with cinnamon from the mugs Lothar brought back. It’s  _ everything, _ and Khadgar pulls his mouth away from half-focused kisses to hide his face in Lothar’s neck just before his whole body pulls tight and he  _ clings _ to Lothar as he comes between them, spine arched, moaning loudly enough he’s half-certain the whole city can hear, seeing starbursts behind his scrunched-shut eyes.

Lothar makes a sound like he’s been punched, rough and low, before he’s crushing Khadgar as close as possible and fucking him through it forcefully enough they’re both moved up the bed. Khadgar barely notices his skull hit the headboard through the haze of pleasure, but Lothar’s hisses like an offended cat and then there’s a hand slamming into the wood beside Khadgar’s head. It makes bright, bursting joy sing through Khadgar’s chest, too-much when he’s still reeling from his orgasm and being driven through aftershock after aftershock. He’s overwhelmed, but it’s amazing, and he wants to ride the knife-edge feeling of it as long as he can.

But then Lothar’s grunting, gasping, and Khadgar is held still and tight-close as Lothar tries and fails to muffle himself by pressing his mouth to Khadgar’s shoulder as he comes, every muscle shaking, hips twitching. Khadgar holds on as well as he can and squeezes around Lothar’s cock, grinning stupidly at the choked noise it earns him as Lothar jerks forward, chasing more of the feeling and scrabbling for a grip on the flat surface of the headboard for a long moment - before it’s over, and he slumps like a puppet with its strings cut.

He makes as if to slide off to the side, and Khadgar lets out an irritable noise and stops him by wrapping his legs tighter around him. Lothar huffs at him, arms shaking, and then finally gives up on politeness and lets himself fall directly on top of Khadgar. Khadgar’s breath is forced out of his lungs with an indelicate  _ oof,  _ but he wiggles happily in place as he’s smooshed into the bedding.

Lothar laughs at him as he struggles to get a breath, face pressed half into Khadgar’s hair and half into the bed. The sound seems to break some kind of spell, and suddenly Khadgar can hear something other than their own noises and the blood rushing in his ears again, and he’s aware of the fire crackling and the light hail or heavy snow - he isn’t sure which - striking the windows, and…

“Are those bells?” he croaks, and he isn’t really sure how Lothar understands him, but he seems to and nods agreeably into Khadgar’s hair.

“Happy Winter Veil, Khadgar,” he mumbles cheerily, mostly muffled into the bed. Khadgar laughs hard enough Lothar has to roll off to the side to let him breathe.

When he’s settled down again, Khadgar turns to look at Lothar - already chewing another peppermint and holding a mug, the lout. Khadgar grins. “Happy Winter Veil.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the boys getting it up and Khadgar getting eaten out instead of getting up and eating breakfast this morning and tbqh I consider this a good life choice.
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS LIONTRUST FANDOM, ILU.


End file.
